


how to say no

by superwholocked_wizard



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: Angst, Gaston dies, Gay, Lefou - Freeform, Like, M/M, Sad, Spoiler Alert - Freeform, StanFou, Stanley - Freeform, completely dead, even better, gay angst, hung and shit, im sensing a pattern with me, lefou can't love himself, ok so this talks about death, stanley x lefou
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 10:41:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10615209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superwholocked_wizard/pseuds/superwholocked_wizard
Summary: *this takes place where Gaston does not fall, but is tried and hungEver since seeing the way in which the villagers dismissed Gaston, LeFou has been afraid.he was someone who they supposedly looked up to, and whilst they had good reason to drop him in such a way, Lefou couldn't help but wonder if, or when, they decided he had outgrown his use, would they do the same to him?





	

**Author's Note:**

> hullo
> 
> its gay and angsty as usual, 
> 
> hope you enjoy it
> 
> originally posted on my tumblr
> 
> have fun with this one, and if not, thanks for dropping by anyway, i guess?
> 
> im socially awkward, ok read it have fun bye
> 
> sophie

LeFou had never felt so disgusted with himself. The pure loathing of his own being was something that was foreign to him, who had always justified himself in one way or another.

The day of the hanging, he threw up.

It wasn’t that he had any pity for Gaston, he knew exactly what he did and how he had done it, the wrong which he had caused for so many people and how it had hurt them, but it was that it wasn’t quick.

LeFou didn’t know that if the neck wouldnt break, it he wasn’t dropped far enough, then it would take 20 minutes for the painfully elongated death to finally come to a halt. 20 minutes of jerking, choking and begging. 20 minutes of watching someone whom he had previously trusted watch him as the life faded from him. He would forever remember the look of fear that passed over Gaston’s face just as the life finally left his eyes.

The sickening thud as they him cut down didn’t help either, or that the villagers cheered.

When they returned to the castle, all he could do was put on a small smile, trying to blend in with the rest. Why wouldn’t he? The man who had manipulated him for years was finally gone from his life, yet he couldn’t seem to be happy.

The problem about being close with someone, is you only seem to stay because you have things which you believe to be similar with them, so of course, LeFou, being him, had somewhat seen himself in Gaston, and if they could cut him off, someone who had been involved with the village (albeit not positively) then what was stopping them from doing it to him?

Of course the first thing LeFou thought of was to work to show that he could help, that was why Gaston kept him around, he was a good worker, always had and always will be. If needs be, he would compromise his own health to get a job done, in some cases far too much, but a couple of day in bed would usually get him enough strength for the next job, and thus repeated the dangerous cycle over and over again. Not once had he broken it and he had the feeling that he wouldn’t ever again. This was evident when Mrs Potts came down his room with tea, seeming distracted.

“Is everything alright Mrs Potts?” She simply nodded and walked away hurriedly trying to get somewhere in a rush.

When he later saw her, she was in the library quickly stacking books. LeFou would sometimes come and try to read with Belle, he could now do it on his own so the library was a safe space for him, yet the din of books crashing to the floor and a horrified wail was not something that he was used to when going there.

Rushing in, he found Mrs Potts grappling for hundreds of leather bound pages that had scattered from one end of the room to the other, whilst trying to hold up a small bookcase which seemed to be trying to crush her.

After finally pulling the bookshelf back to its original position LeFou made the bold move of asking Mrs Potts what on earth was wrong.

“I can’t seem to do it!” she wailed, grabbing her tea towel which always hung on her apron and whipping it out, to rub at one of the tables for some reason.

“What can’t you do Mrs Potts?” Lefou inquired, taking a tentative step towards her.

“Greek!” she screamed, turning once more and almost catching LeFou with her towel.

“Pardon?”

“Greek! I don’t know greek and half of these cursed things are. Some ambassador lad from Greece is coming to meet the prince and of course i have to write between him and the Master, so of course i don’t know greek or what to do,” at this point, she had collapsed onto the floor with her head in her hands and tears falling down her face.

“I know greek.”

Mrs Potts looked up to LeFou with a questioning look.  
“What?”

“I know greek.” he replied.

It wasn’t a lie, LeFou really did know greek. He had a friend in the army who only knew the language and of course in his free time got lessons from others, wanting to understand more about the questionable gentleman. Naturally he had picked it up quite quickly, much like reading, and had even taken a couple of lessons with Belle every now and then.

Mrs Potts still looked confused.

“I could do the corresponding,” he sighed, knowing what was about to happen, “i could write what the master wants me to write and i could do it in greek.”

Mrs Potts gave a squeal of joy, and tackled LeFou in a hug, squeezing him close to her.

“Oh you are a darling aren’t you!”

From then on the jobs just grew.

Researching recipes in the library, helping out with the washing and cleaning the stables, even helping Lumiere with lighting the candles before any ball.

Between all of these jobs, LeFou never really had any time to eat, or sleep, or do anything for that matter. It had been weeks since he had met up with stanley, who was now serving as an apprentice for Madame Garderobe, and days since he had even had a moment to spare for himself, yet all to help the staff and get into their favor. Anytime he felt himself slacking, he remembered the rope around Gaston’s neck, the look of fear, then the emptiness, and that was motivation enough, on any day.

He wasn’t sure what time it was when Stanley stopped by, but it had definitely been past dinner, and even past midnight when he heard a familiar knock on the door, and a creak which he had grown used to.

He usually had warning when Stanley came to visit, maybe an ‘on va ce voir ce soire’ when they passed in the corridor, yet when the knock came, he found himself scrambling to remove the scraps of paper from his desk, sweeping them to one side and messily arranging them to be in some sort of an order which could be deemed presentable.

By the time the door had opened, LeFou had just realised that the mess in his room could not be fixed with a quick spruce up.

The food which Mrs Potts had brought to him that morning was sitting, cold and forgotten in one corner, ink had spilled all over the floor at some point and so many different pages were scattered around, in fact LeFou wasn’t completely sure how he had functioned in this mess until now.

Stanley stood at the door smiling to himself, until he turned and saw LeFou standing in the bombshell which had gone off around him.

“Mon dieux, mon amour what happened?” he looked appalled, and ran up to lefou, sweeping his hair from his face and bringing him closer.

“Are you ok?” he brought LeFou away to inspect him.

LeFou simply shrugged, unsure of how to answer him.

“I think so… why?” he looked up at stanley to see pure worry in his eyes, and felt himself melt slightly at the beautiful brown orbs which had captured his.

“Mon amour it looks like you’ve been awake for days,” stanley replied, still searching LeFou’s face for any sort of injury.

LeFou sighed, dropping his shoulders and shaking his head.

“I have.”

Stanley looked up.

“What.”

LeFou closed his eyes as he felt the tears welling up behind his lids.

“I’ve been awake for days. I can’t sleep.”

He waited for it, the remark, the one that Gaston usually made about how he should stay up more to get work done, or how if he ate as much as he slept, everything would be balanced, or some sort of insult which made him feel worse and worse every time.

Instead he heard a soft sigh which sounded suspiciously like he was asking something.

“Why?”

LeFou felt one of the tears fall, then another, and another and one more, until they had begun a steady steam. He began sobbing and felt his knees give way, as he clung to Stanley who had knelt with him, holding tightly to his jacket and buried his face in the collar.

He had reached his limit.

All those nights of sleeplessness, the lack of food, even just the lack of human contact was enough to drive several men mad, yet it only seemed to hurt LeFou, never stop him, not once.

In all that time, Stanley stayed, rubbing his back as he cried into his shirt, whispering encouraging words to him and giving him small kisses to his cheeks, which only prompted him to cry more. In all his time he had never known such kindness until it was exposed to him in that moment.

He sniffled and sobbed, wailed and whined until he was too dehydrated to let any more water fall from his eyes, and yet still clung to stanley as if he were a lifeline, keeping him from joining Gaston in whatever afterlife may await him.

When LeFou finally calmed down, he sat back, and let his head drop slightly, wiping the snot from his nose.

Stanley simply sat, opposite him with a look of utmost sympathy framing his face, and what could have been seen as fear to what LeFou could possibly do to himself.

“Why would you do this to yourself?” He whispered tentatively, reaching out to hold onto LeFou’s hand gently.

LeFou sniffed.

“If they did it to him, why not do it to me?”

A look of confusion passed over Stanley’s face, before understanding settled in.

“Gaston.”

LeFou nodded.

Finally, Stanley knew why. He knew why LeFou was overworking himself to the bone, why he had let himself get so involved in the work which he had taken up, and why he didn’t care if he compromised his health and why he stayed up so late to finish it, because he thought that he was expected to. He thought that if he didn’t, people would see him as worthless. Because if he didn’t, he thought they would see that he thought he was similar to Gaston, and, god forbid, they believed he was like Gaston and did to him what they did to the villain.

Stanley reached out and grabbed LeFous other hand, and brought them to his lips. He placed a small kiss on each then pulled LeFou physically closer, and lay his chin upon his forehead.

“Etienne?”

LeFou nodded.

“If you were anything like him, would you have been offered a room in the châteaux?”

LeFou froze, contemplating the question asked.

“And would Mrs Potts have brought you breakfast every morning?”

LeFou shook his head.

“And would I be in this room letting you snot all over my jacket?”

At this, LeFou gave a giggle and shook his head again.

Looking up to Stanley, LeFou gently whispered out one word.

“No.”

Stanley smiled.

“Now remember that word,” LeFou nodded, “and reply to my next question with it.”

LeFou, confused, complied.

“Now, mon amour, are you anything like Gaston.”

LeFou let out an enormous grin.

“No.”


End file.
